


Sonder

by notreallystraight



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Library, F/F, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Clarke Griffin/Lexa, The 100 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-05-15 22:43:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19305322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notreallystraight/pseuds/notreallystraight
Summary: Clarke experiences a loss unlike any she could imagine. Her entire world seems shifted and out of place, and in the middle of the whirlwind of emotions, she meets someone new. Dealing with grief and long-time locked down emotions, she now has to find a way to continue living.





	1. Nodus Tollens

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to be honest with you. I have not written a single word of anything for two years now, and coming back to writing fanfic is terrifying to me. I'm not even sure I belong among the fans of The 100 anymore since I honestly have no clue what's going on in the TV-show. This is old-school Clarke and Lexa and hopefully, HOPEFULLY, someone will enjoy this.  
> At least I will have written something.

There was no doubt in Clarke's mind that this was going to be a long and hard day. Most of her days were like this. The sun no longer rose as high, the wind didn't touch her skin the same. Clarke's life simply wasn't what it was two weeks ago, but she had to go. She had to go outside and she had to at least pretend to enjoy it. She heard the familiar thudding of socks on old floorboards and no more than three seconds later Octavia poked her head inside Clarke's bedroom. 

It wasn't Clarke's bedroom, though. It was Octavia and Lincoln's spare room with a mattress tough enough to leave the entirety of Clarke's backside aching for hours after a night's on-and-off sleep. She couldn't stand to be alone, though with both Octavia and Lincoln having to go to work for most of the day, she was. Clarke was alone. 

"Sleep alright?" Octavia asked, dark curls pulled up in a bun hanging loosely on the side of her head. 

Clarke nodded and proceeded to get up from the mattress. She grunted as she rose, stretching her sore arms and legs. 

"You might be better off just sleeping on the ground," Octavia said. Clarke nodded again. It took all of five seconds for Octavia to study Clarke's face and say her magic words, "I'll stay home from work today." And it took no more than half a breath for Clarke to answer, "no." And so the discussion was over. 

It was bad enough that Clarke had completely stoppet going to work, it was worse to think of her friends using their vacation days on her. 

It was even worse to know Clarke was eating out their fridge and using their electronics. 

"Breakfast?" Octavia asked, filling the quiet. Clarke barely noticed when conversations dulled down. 

"Sure."

"Lincoln baked a loaf of bread last night." Octavia turned down the hallway towards the kitchen. 

"Where does he find the time and energy for that sort of thing?" Clarke asked, meaning for it to be a lighthearted comment, but Octavia looked at her, concerned. 

"You'll do those tings again, too, Clarke. This sort of stuff just... takes time. And energy." 

"I know- thank you." Those few words had become Clarke's answer to most things. People were filled with wonderful ideas as to how one should deal with grief, yet Clarke couldn't find actual comfort in all the pieces of advice. She wanted to sleep, but she wasn't tired. She wanted to go for walks, but it exhausted her. She wanted her dad, but he was gone. 

"The bread's on the counter and all the thing you'll need are in the fridge. I think we're out of coffee, though, but maybe you could go buy some? The shops are open in twenty minutes. Lincoln's home late today and I have to pick up Raven from the airport, as you know-"

"I know, Octavia. It's okay. I'll be fine. Thank you." Clarke was standing in the middle of the small apartment's living room as Octavia grabbed her bag from a chair and headed out the door. 

"Call me," she said, "the minute you feel like it." Octavia took her keys hung from the nail next to the mirror by the door and shut it behind her. 

The silence seemed to punctuate the feelings Clarke had inside her, the absence of something, the lack of someone. 

She wanted to sleep again. 

***

Outside the wind was calm, though traffic was not. The constant honking and slamming of breaks, mixed with people yelling over the phone, over their steering wheels, over nothing, seemed to be the tipping point of Clarke's patience. She needed space, quiet. Something other than this. Having payed much too much for her coffee, she needed something cheap as well. Looking around herself, then back to the map on her phone she decided the local library could be a nice change of scenery. 

The phone read "7 minutes walk", and Clarke decided for herself that another seven minutes of this constant noice was bearable. 

She headed down a side street, hoping for the traffic to have calmed down a bit there, but was met with a traffic jam leaving people honking even more than before. 'The world really is out to get me' Clarke thought. Turning right, then left, she found a path running through something of a small park. A few children were on their way to school, but their yells were at least lacking the harassing curses from the drivers. 

Clarke didn't know this neighborhood very well, so she constantly checked her phone for directions. The park was lined with trees that Clarke had to watch out for, not wanting to head face-first into them. 

"'Morning Ma'am!" Someone called and Clarke looked up from her phone. She was wearing sunglasses with a blue tint and the man looked sickly in them. "Interested in buying a news paper?"

"No, sorry," Clarke said, stepping around the man. 

"Sure? The money will go towards-"

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm in a hurry," Clarke called back, pointing to the map on her phone as if that would help. It wasn't that she didn't want to buy a news paper from the man, it was simply the thought of having to hold a conversation for that long, having to find money in her wallet, having to hear him say 'have a nice day' and having to say it back. It was too much for her. A nice was not something to have. Not for a long while, at least. 

So Clarke continued down the street for another four minutes until she was standing across the road from the library. 

Plastered on the slightly dirty windows were stickers and posters exclaiming authors' newest books, game nights and Podcast-hosts having live shows over the course of the next month. A sign read 'Know what would look great with that outfit? A book!' and Clarke rolled her eyes. It was written with chalk of different colors in a curvy, swirly font close to unreadable. Despite the too many advertisements, Clarke stepped inside. 

The room couldn't be much bigger than Octavia and Lincoln's apartment, yet seemed to hold enough books to fill the White House - not that Clarke had ever been there. Shelves tall enough to just barely touch the ceiling were stacked with books. Massive signs hung here and there, exclaiming the different genres or, even, vibes of the books. Clarke stepped inside even further, seeing a cosy couch-area to her left and chairs and tables to her right. A few elderly men and women were chatting quietly to each other, all holding steaming cups of tea or coffee. 

'I never got to see Dad like that'. The thought was intrusive, heavy. Clarke shook her head and sighed, mindlessly strolling down one of the many isles. The sign above her read 'Short books with long names' and Clarke wondered what the point of those signs was. She wondered if it worked for this library to have such weird isle-names and she wondered if anyone other than the seven elderly folks ever came here. 

Perhaps the place was owned by one of the elderly by the door. 

Just as that thought came to her, a young woman shuffled past her with a cart filled with books. "Oh, sorry!" Her hair was bleached blonde with dark roots. She had in earplugs and were listening to some screeching music that consisted, from what Clarke could hear, of someone screaming and slamming pots and pans together. The woman wore heavy eyeliner smudged around her hooded lids. Her lips were parted as she continued to mouth the words of the song, leaving Clarke to wonder if there even were lyrics in such music. 

Clarke turned back to the shelf of books, pretending to find the titles interesting as she sipped her coffee. 

"Sorry," the woman said and Clarke turned with a small sigh. "No drinks in the isles. Put it on a table, find a book, and then you can drink it." 

"I won't spill it," Clarke said, wishing to not have this conversation, or any conversation, right now. 

"I don't care. It's the rules. The owner will be pissed if she saw you with that. Pissed at me, of course." The woman's eyebrows rose and nodded towards a table by the wall behind Clarke. 

"Fine." Clarke looked at the name tag on the woman's shirt and read 'Anya'. If Clarke wanted to spend time yelping this place she'd give the costumer service a solid two out of five stars. She turned her back to the woman, Anya, and walked to the table. She put down her drink, keeping one eye on it as she browsed the nearby shelves. 

She found the classics. Old, worn books with yellowed paper, all seeming to be ready to fall apart from the barest touch stood lined up before Clarke. 'He has read most of these' Clarke thought as she read the titles. 'The Old Man and the Sea', 'The Catcher in the Rye', 'How to kill a Mockingbird'... The titles went on and on. Some Clarke had read in high school, some she had only heard of. Some she recognized from their covers or spines, having seen them on her Dad's shelves at home. 

She grabbed as many as she could carry, bringing them all back to the table. Carefully, she opened one, read the first few sentences, and stopped. Her chest hurt. Her fingers were numb where they touched the frail paper, almost as numb as everything else about her. She didn't want to read any of these, didn't want to see Dad's bookshelves in his office at home, didn't want to think about it all. 

Clarke wanted to grab her coffee and go. But go where? Back to Octavia and Lincoln's apartment where she'd simply eat and sleep over and over again until Octavia returned? This time with Raven in tow? The three girls had been latched onto each other since high school, and now, with Clarke being not-Clarke, it was clear the three of them weren't the same. Clarke ruined these things, had done that since before she became half an orphan. She was pushing her closest, dearest friends away because it hurt too much seeing them happy, seeing everyone but herself happy. 

Tears in her eyes made it impossible to read the pages and she feared she would ruin the old books even more. 

"Here." A handfull of napkins were handed to her, and Clarke took them with a muffled 'thank you'. She dried her eyes and nose, taking a deep breath and finally felt composed enough to look at the person standing before her. "Since you've only gotten to the epilogue I don't believe it's the book making you feel upset." 

The woman was looking down at Clarke. She wore loose fitted clothes and had her hair in french braids down her back. Glasses rested on the bridge of her nose and honest concern filled her eyes. "I'm fine, thank you." Clarke shut the book and looked a the mess she'd made. Books had fallen to the floor, one had several pages falling out. The neat pile had turned into what Clarke imagined she herself looked like. "I'm so sorry. I'll- I'll clean this and pay for the ruined book, of course-"

"It's okay. These were old and mostly broken anyway, so it'll be fine-"

"No, it's not fine. I'll pay for it. How much is it?" Clarke insisted, already pulling out her wallet. 

"It's okay-" 

"No. It is not. Let me pay for it. It broke it," Clarke said. Her voice cracked and she felt the push of the tears. Instead of giving in to them she forced them down and pulled out the last seven dollars she had. "This isn't enough," she muttered, more to herself than to the woman. 

"It is. They're cheap. Old copies that have been mass printed. They cost five dollars, max." The woman gently took the five dollar-note from Clarke and folded it, putting it in her pocket. "And I'll clean these up. I know where they go and so it's much faster for me to do it." 

"You're too kind," Clarke said, standing. Still, she grabbed the pile of untouched books and carried them to the shelf a few feet from the table. The woman followed her with a smaller stack, replacing a few here and there so they were in order. "Thank you..."

"Lexa," she said. 

"Lexa," Clarke repeated. Lexa smiled and nodded for a bit. She started to fiddle with the five dollar note from her pocket and Clarke figured this was one of those moments where her brain had stopped functioning and it had gone quiet without her realizing. "I should get going."

"Yes, of course. Are you sure you'll be okay?" 

"I'm fine," Clarke responded, feeling the words tumble out before her even thinking. It really had become a force of habit. She took her coffee from her table and walked away from Lexa. She needed rest again. Sleep, quiet. She needed this dull ache to be over.


	2. Liberosis

"Tell us all about it," Octavia said, sitting on the couch with her legs folded beneath her. She carried three cold beers to the three girls, popping them open with her wedding ring. 

"I thought Lincoln had told you to stop doing that," Raven said, accepting the beer and drinking a quarter of it in one go. Clarke took the other and Octavia the last as she wiped her hands on her jeans one by one. 

"He got the privilege of picking the rings, I get the privilege of opening bottles with mine. But, the trip, Raven. How was it?" 

Raven shifted in the couch and rested her beer against her leg as she explained. She'd been in New York for barely a month on some work related trip and had ended up with a job offer there. She had declined, of course, not wanting to permanently stay in New York. But at the convention for engineering and such, which Clarke couldn't remember the proper name for, she'd met several influential people ready to guide her way through the business.

"That sounds amazing!" Octavia squealed, clinking bottles with Raven. Clarke offered a supportive smile, but she could feel herself slip out of the conversation - not that she'd been much in it anyway. She wondered if Raven was going to be staying the night here, and if that meant tonight would turn into one of their small gatherings. Clarke couldn't bare the thought of everyone coming, of loud music, bottles popping open, of boardgames and-

"Earth to Clarke," Raven said, nudging her with her elbow. "I asked you a question." 

"Sorry," Clarke said, sipping her beer and cringing at the taste. 

"I see you still haven't learned to enjoy that," Raven said, smiling slightly. 

"You've only been gone for a month. How could I have learned to like beer within a month?" Clarke asked. 

"It took me about two and half bottles in senior year of highschool," Raven chuckled and took another mouthful of beer. Octavia followed and Clarke decided to put hers on the small table. It had wet rings and dark stains all over but she still used one of the knitted coasters Octavia had made when she was a teenager. She'd originally made them for Bellamy when he moved out from their childhood home, but he'd kindly regifted her them the moment she moved in with Lincoln.

"What was the question?" Clarke asked when she noticed the quiet. She should pay more attention to that, people stare when it's quiet. 

"I asked you if you'd talked to your mom since the funeral," Raven repeated. 

It brought forth something strange within Clarke at the mentioning of her dad's funeral. Maybe it was the way Raven breezed past it, said it so lightly. As if it didn't weigh her down. 'It doesn't' Clarke thought. They don't feel it the same way Clarke does, and she hadn't really thought of that. They knew her parents well through highschool and they were upset when the heard about Jake passing, but he wasn't their dad. She didn't know if it made her upset that her friends weren't as broken as Clarke. Maybe it would make her even more upset if they felt exactly the way she did - after all, Jake wasn't their dad. 

"I have. Yes," Clarke answered. She'd waited too long to answer. The two girls were now sharing looks. "She's... busy. With work."

"As usual," Octavia said. 

"Yes. As usual." Clarke didn't mean to sound annoyed. It simply seemed to be a constant state when the three of them were together. It had been two weeks since her dad died, yet this tension had existed between them for much longer. 

"I'll get another beer," Raven said, though she hadn't quite finished her first one. When she'd left the room and walked the two steps up to the kitchen around the corner, Octavia slid closer to Clarke on the couch. 

"Why are you being so hostile?" 

"Hostile?" Clarke repeated. 

"Yes, hostile. Raven has exiting, interesting news and you're acting like it's absolutely nothing. I understand things are shitty right now and I don't expect you to jump up and down clapping but... I honestly believe pretending to be a little happy might-" Octavia shrugged nonchalantly, "-help you on the way." She meant well, Clarke knew. It was just that hearing these things, knowing she wasn't what her friends needed, wasn't acting the way her friends needed her to act... it drove her up the wall. 

"I'm sorry if I can't be happy about Raven possibly getting a promotion or you discovering a new café near work or Lincoln baking, Octavia, but I lost my dad," Clarke snapped, standing. "Nothing else matters right now."

"I understand that, but-" Octavia began, rising as well. 

"No, you don't. I'm happy that you don't because it sucks, it really does. I miss him. The only thing to make me feel better is the only thing that I cannot get back. Him. Thank you for helping me, for letting me stay here, for being amazing, but I can't do this." Clarke waved her arms at Octavia, the couch, the apartment. Possibly even the entire world. 

"Do what?" Octavia asked, voice suddenly small. 

"I can't wake up in the morning and want breakfast and find joy in Lincoln baking. I can't go out to have coffee and ignore how the entire world is screaming at each other and ignore the noise. I can't go to the library and see books that were on his shelves and want to read them. I can't sit here and talk to you two and pretend as if it doesn't both piss me off that you can smile at a time like this and break my heart that I can't smile with you." Clarke took a deep breath and walked towards her coat hanging next to the nail with Octavia's keys. "I'm sorry..." 

Clarke left the apartment.

***

It was nighttime and all the shops along the streets had closed for the day. Only bigger cafés and restaurants were still open. People were walking, some hand in hand, others in larger groups, down the street. Clarke hadn't brought her wallet. If she hadn't already left her phone in the pocket of her jacket she'd forgotten that as well. It started ringing soon after Clarke turned the corner towards the small park, but she left it buzzing in her pocket. Eventually it stopped and she forgot about it. 

The park was not only lined with blooming trees but also string lights. They glowed in every color imaginable and the darkening sky and light wind seemed to match the vibe of the park. People were having late picnics in the warmish weather, clinking glasses of wine together as they chatted. Clarke continued through the park, taking her time as she strolled along. A few kids were playing a game of soccer and, not wanting to get in the middle of the game, she crossed the road. 

Suddenly, Clarke found herself standing outside the library. 

The lights were still on, yet the chalkboard sign had been taken inside. The colored lights from across the street reflected in the windows, leaving the posters unreadable, yet pretty. Clarke remembered being dragged to the library and bookstores when she was younger, her mom asking her dad if it really was necessary to force Clarke to enjoy his hobbies. He'd retorted, saying Abby always forced Clarke to watch that old TV-show about doctors and surgeons. Abby had replied, 'at least there's variety in those shows' and Jake, 'it's still about being in the medical field'. The banter between the two had died down a long time ago. 

Clarke was sure that if it wasn't for her, her parents would've gotten a divorce long ago. It was a strange thought to have, but Clarke knew it to be true. She'd been a sensitive child, used harsh words on those around her to hide her insecurities. Every time her parents would have the smallest disagreement or fight, Clarke would be terrified of them splitting up. Then Jake started to get unwell and, well, here she was. 

Lost in thought, Clarke was startled when the door to the library opened. "Sorry! I didn't mean to startle you-" It was the woman who had helped Clarke put the books back earlier. 

"Lexa," Clarke mumbled. 

"Y-yes. Can I help you? Were you on your way in?" 

"You've closed," Clarke replied, taking a step back to give Lexa more space to exit. 

"Well, I don't mind staying another minute or so. Do you want to go in?" Lexa smiled again, a light smile that seemed comfortable. Clarke found herself missing doing that. 

"No, no. It's-... I was just walking." 

"Alright," Lexa said, shutting and locking the door. "We're open again tomorrow at eight if you feel like coming in again. I'm sure there are more books for you to ruin," she added with a wink and a grin. 

"I-" Clarke shook her head. "I'm really sorry about that, I'm not... I don't typically visit libraries and break their books." 

"Well, if you did then I was going to suggest a different hobby." 

Clarke exhaled quickly, something resembling a laugh. It startled her how easy it came, like a forgotten muscle suddenly doing its pulling. 

"Since you know my name I feel as if I should know yours," Lexa said.

"Clarke," she answered. Lexa put out her hand and Clarke did the same, shaking Lexa's. "Are you from the city?"

"No, I move around a lot. But I've lived here for... a year, I think. God, it's been that long?" Lexa laughed easily, running a hand over one of her braids. It fell over her shoulder. "I'm guessing you're not from here, though."

"Is it that obvious?" 

"Well, first off... you entered the library here, which is mostly for turists and old people. Second off, I've seen you wandering the park aimlessly twice in one day, which is something, again, mostly turists do." 

"I... needed something quiet," Clarke answered. She felt tired from talking, from the fight with Octavia, from walking so much today. 

"Well, you're always welcome at the library. People often come to do work or just sit and do nothing. You don't even have to read, if you don't feel like it." 

"Thank you, Lexa. That's very kind of you," Clarke said, turning back towards the park. "I should go." 

"I won't hold you here, then. But I hope to see you back some time." Lexa gave her a quick wave and Clarke nodded as she headed off towards the park. The children had stopped playing, the people had ended their picnics, the lights even seemed to have died down a bit, no longer shining as brightly. Clarke was ready to go back to Octavia's apartment. Hopefully sleep would hit her quickly.


	3. Adronitis

Lexa checked her phone. The screen read '03:07' and instantly she felt ready to tear Anya's head off her shoulders. Her day at the library had involved stocking new books, something she used to enjoy since it meant new things to read and explore, but something that now felt like just another chore. She loved the library but lately it had sucked all her time and energy. People weren't stopping by as much and she was desperate to make it interesting to visit the place. 

"Anya!" Lexa yelled as another bump sounded and Anya swore in a much too loud whisper. "Anya, I swear to god!" 

"It's 3am, Lexa, god's asleep!" Anya called back, chuckling. 

"So was I," she muttered back as she turned on her side. Her bedroom door wasn't completely closed, because of the humidity in the small room, and it made Anya's latenight drunken adventures even louder. Anya hadn't even left the apartment this time, simply stayed up all night in her bedroom, playing videogames with people online and getting drunk on vodka and orange juice. Another bump made Lexa curse and get out of bed. "Anya-" 

Anya had decided to fall asleep on the rug in front of the couch. 

"You've got to be kidding me," Lexa sighed, rubbing her puffy face. "Anya, get up." 

Anya answered with a muffled snore. 

"Anya. Get. Up." Another snore. "Now." 

Anya curled on her side and Lexa decided to give up. 'This cannot be my problem' she thought. Instead she grabbed the only decorative pillow on the couch - a gift from an ex-boyfriend of Anya's - and slid it under Anya's head. Then she went into Anya's bedroom and grabbed her a blanket and draped it over the snoring body of the twenty six year old woman on the floor. 

"You truly are an inspiration to mankind," Lexa muttered. She stifled a yawn as she went back to her bedroom. 

***

"Dude." 

"Lexa. Wake up."

"Lexa, jesus christ it's late. Wake. Up." 

Lexa jumped in bed and checked her phone. "Shit," she hissed as she rolled out, grabbing clothes and pulled it on, seemingly in one movement. She'd overslept. "Why didn't you wake me sooner?" Lexa snapped at Anya, who stood in the kitchen, munching down dry cereal. 

"I tried. You looked peaceful."

"Does this-" Lexa gestured to the messy state of herself, "- look peaceful to you?" At this, Anya laughed.

"You want me to drive?" 

"You're not coming to work, Anya." Lexa looked for her keys in the apartment that looked to have been hit by multiple hurricanes over night. "Where the hell are my keys!?" She looked through the piles of papers on the dining table - which actually was a cheap IKEA desk, decorated with an empty fruit bowl. Lexa had been meaning to buy some more fruit for them. Anya ate too much cereal. 

"Do please enlighten me as to why I am not coming to work?" Anya asked, crunching away on the cereal. 

"Because," Lexa answered, looking through clean, yet-to-be-folded laundry in a pile by the bathroom door. "You're hungover. Last time you went to work like that," now Lexa spent two precious seconds eyeing her roommate, "you threw up in the children's books isle." 

"It wasn't that bad," Anya mumbled. 

"Oh, it was. Because I was the one who had to clean up the mess, idiot." Lexa turned back to the pile of clothes, nothing. "Now, where are my damn keys, Anya?" She turned to Anya who now stood with the empty bowl in one hand, Lexa's keys in the other. "I hate you." 

"Kissies," Anya squealed and blew a kiss towards Lexa, who rolled her eyes as she ran out the apartment. 

***

Traffic was awful, meaning Lexa opened the library seven minutes later than supposed to. The usual group of elderly folk were chatting outside the place as Lexa ran to the door. "I'm so sorry!" She said through quick breaths and fumbled with the keys.

"Where's the fire, dear?" One said and the others chuckled. Lexa opened the door, put out the sign and turned on the lights. 

"There you go. I'll get the tea and coffee ready for you. It's all on the house." 

"The tea and coffee are the only things we pay for around here. If we get it for free you'll be out of business soon," another said, grinning from ear to ear. 

"If it weren't for you, I think we'd already have been shut down long ago," Lexa said, though none of the others heard her.

The sun had risen a fair share by the time Lexa had prepared the drinks for the group. It peeked through the clouds that moved quickly high above. It didn't seem too windy outside, yet with the growing population of grayish clouds it'd soon be pouring rain. Lexa had books to sort through. A few had come with donations yesterday and she needed to go through the lot to see what they could use and what not. Without Anya coming in today it would be busy with the cleanups. In a few days there'd be another presentation of some young author's newest poetry collection and Lexa had promised the place would be spotless by the time. 

She already felt tired. 

Lexa grabbed the donated books and sorted through them. Some were old and worn but seemed readable and interesting enough. Others were barely touched and Lexa wondered how people could spare getting rid of untouched books. She sorted the ones she would keep into neat piles that all were mentally labelled with the isle-names. Then, she stacked them on the cart and placed them where they belonged. She redecorated the front table by the door, holding new books for this month's theme. She decided to find her personal favourite science fiction books and stack them neatly on the table. 

When she'd finished, a few people had entered and some looked slightly lost in the labyrinth of the library. Lexa helped them out, asking if they were looking for something specific and then finding something of the sorts. Rain had begun splattering the windows and she took a deep breath. At least a few more people would feel obligated to stop by in this weather, if not only for the shelter.

"Guess who's back from the dead," Anya said as she entered the room. She had two thumbs pointing towards herself and sauntered towards Lexa behind the desk. 

"I thought I told you not to come in today," Lexa said in a hushed voice as the elderly people were turning to see who'd entered. 

"I must have misheard you," Anya said in a drawling voice. "I thought you said to come in when I felt like it since it's such a relief to have someone to talk to in the lonely, quiet library that you spend all your waking hours in."

"It's my job," Lexa replied, sighing and rubbing her eyes. 

"You make money from jobs, Lexa. This is a passtime until you find out what to do with your life." 

"I am not having this conversation again." Lexa snapped shut the book she was reading, putting it beneath the counter. She'd taken a short break from writing down online book recommendations, but decided to continue. She didn't enjoy the book she'd started very much and her head felt too stuffed to focus on reading. 

"By the way," Anya said, shrugging off her wet coat and hanging it on the back of a chair. "The sign outside is soaked. Unreadable. Well, it was before the rain, too, so not much has changed, I guess." 

"Damn," Lexa swore quietly, looking over her shoulder and out the windows. The chalk had practically melted off. She'd have to see to that later. 

"What do you want me to do?" Anya asked and leaned against the desk. 

"Well, since you're an incompetent idiot you might as well clean the shelves." 

"Right," Anya said quickly, "and what will you really have me do?"

Lexa fixed her a firm look and a raised brow. Anya raised both her brows. Lexa stared her down with a straight back. 

"Fine," Anya sighed and went to the back of the place to find the tools necessary. 

Lexa continued her work, knowing today would be a late one. Her legs already hurt from standing and she was hungry from having skipped breakfast. If she hurried through these recommendations she might have time to buy lunch somewhere nearby. Across the street and park was a grocery store that sold ready-made salats and sandwiches. She could grab something for now and dinner tonight, since she'd probably be staying until then. 

With her mind on today's food shopping, she continued to copy the stuff from the library's website. The rain poured down outside, the elderly people seemed to slowly leave, Anya was blasting music from her headphones loud enough for Lexa to hear even though the two were several isles apart, a bell rang and the front door clicked open and lcosed. Lexa stacked the papers neatly, each book title written in capital letters at the top of the notes. 

She needed to work on her handwriting. 

"Sorry?" 

Lexa jumped, nearly dropping the papers in her hands everywhere. "My god," she breathed, holding one hand to her chest. 

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you." 

Lexa shook her head, brushing off the jump. "It's alright. I'm-" Lexa paused. It was Clarke, the girl from yesterday. "I'm naturally very jumpy. No worries." 

"Okay," Clarke said. Her hair was plastered to her face. She seemed soaked to the bone. 

"Have you been out in the rain all this time?" Lexa asked, looking outside again. It sounded like a million insect hurtling against the glass. 

"I was walking aimlessly around the park," Clarke said, repeating Lexa's words from last night. Lexa chuckled, though Clarke didn't so much as smile. 

"What can I do for you today, then?" Lexa asked, putting the papers down. 

"Oh, nothing." Clarke looked around the place and Lexa found herself feeling self conscious about everything. Anya hadn't cleaned the nearby shelves yet and the floor could do for a good wash and vacuum. The tables by the door still held stains from the elderly's drinks. Everything suddenly seemed dark, messy. Gloomy. 

"Well," Lexa said. "Then I'll just continue with this." She lifted the papers again and took a step towards the table by the door. As she placed the slips of paper halfway into the different books she constantly looked towards where Clarke was. She wore jeans, a shirt and a coat, all of it dripping on the wooden floor. Lexa cringed, hoping Anya would come and clean it soon before it stained it permanently. Clarke didn't seem to notice, or care, that she was soaking wet. She took out her phone, let her shoulders droop and put it away. Then she walked towards some shelves, read the back of some books, and put them back. 

"Do you want something to drink? Coffee? Tea?" Lexa asked after a while. "You can leave your coat to dry behind the desk if you want to." 

Clarke shook her head. "I should go soon, anyway."

Lexa couldn't help but feel slightly... concerned. There was something melancholy about this woman, something heavy. Clarke had been crying when Lexa had first seen her, yes, but one would be surprised to know how many people come to the library for a minute to cry. Something about the peace and quiet, perhaps. It was more the way Clarke carried herself, as if each movement was decided a second after she did it. Maybe it was the way she talked, how her sentences were short, clipped. Each word she spoke seemed to be a struggle. 

"You can stay, Clarke, for a while longer," Lexa said, desperately trying to not sound intrusive or pushy. "There's a back room if you need some peace. I'll let my coworker know not to disturb you. But you can also just walk around and do nothing, if you feel like it. It's alright." 

Clarke took a deep breath, opened her mouth, then closed it again. She shook her head. "I should go. Thank you, but... I don't even know what I'm doing here. I'm sorry for taking up your time-"

"I have too much of it, anyway." Lexa brushed it off and smiled. She remembered Anya's comment from before, how every second of Lexa's spare time is spent in the library. 

Clarke nodded slowly and made her way towards the door.

"Wait!" Lexa called, hurrying to her. "There's a poetry reading in a few days' time if you're interested. It's on one of the posters on the windows outside. You should come." 

"I don't read poetry," answered Clarke, reaching for her phone again. 

"Me neither, but since I arranged the thing I should probably show up and, well, it would be nice if you'd come?" Lexa felt her entire stomach and chest clench up at her own words. 'This girl has no idea who you are. You don't even know who she is. Shut. Up' she thought. 

"I... I'll think about it. Thank you." And with that, Clarke turned and left the library, letting the rain wash over her once again. 

Lexa stood back, dumbfounded. She felt herself wish she'd said a million other things to the woman, but also had no idea what those million things could have been. She turned around to continue with the papers, finding Anya grinning, leaning up against a mop. 

"Who's the cutie?" She almost sang. 

"Anya. Don't." 

Anya bellowed a laugh and turned back to mopping, holding a smirk big enough for Lexa to see.


	4. Alexithymia

It had been several days since Clarke had left the apartment. After her argument with Octavia, the girl had left her mostly to herself, writing notes around the place in stead of talking. 'Home at five', 'take the chicken out of the freezer'. Clarke didn't mind it, she sort of enjoyed it. It was nice knowing she didn't have to force her brain to work throughout an entire conversation. Now, in stead, she could walk around the place in peace as Octavia and Lincoln circled each other with their usual banter. 

"How about," Lincoln said from the couch, "we go out for dinner tonight?" 

Both girls eyed him, neither answering. 

"I heard there's a new place about ten minutes from here. Italian." 

Still no answer. 

"Or, we could sit here in silence and starve." He blew out a long breath, fiddling with his cup of lukewarm coffee. It was friday, meaning neither Octavia nor Lincoln had work. When Octavia sighed deeply and seemed to give in to Lincoln's suggestion, Clarke felt a rising panic in her chest.

"I have plans," she blurted, "actually." 

The couple stared at her in chock. "Plans?" Octavia asked. The first word she'd spoken to Clarke all day. 

"Y- yes. Plans. I... I'm going to a poetry reading. At the library."

This made Lincoln laugh. Hard. He slapped his knee and held a hand to chest, rising from the couch, as if being confined to sitting down was too much of a restraint. "Why is this so funny, Linc?"

"It's not just funny. It's hilarious. Clarke Griffin at a poetry reading."

"Clarke Griffin at the library," Octavia said smugly, sipping her coffee. 

"I- you-" Clarke huffed and stood. "I actually happen to enjoy the literary arts." 

"Sure you do," Octavia retorted with a grin. "And I enjoy dancing ballet and Lincoln does gardening in his spare time." The girl rose from her seat as well, taking the group's empty cups and walking up to the kitchen. "Listen, Clarke," she called, "if you don't want to eat dinner with us, just say it. There's no need for lies."

"I am not lying!" Clarke snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. "I happen to actually have been to the library twice this past week." 

"Why?" Octavia and Lincoln asked at the same time, both equally confused. 

Clarke found herself out of words. She didn't know why. The first time was for the peace and quiet, though she'd found herself overwhelmed with memories and emotions about her dad. Maybe that was why she'd gone back? Simply to relive something from him? From home? Clarke didn't know. She liked the place, the organized mess, perhaps. And Lexa was nice, kind, even. She didn't have to be, she could have charged Clarke the actual price of the book she ruined, could have thought her weird to be crying at the library, could have done a million other things than invited her to the reading tonight. 

Maybe it was just a way to get more costumers, maybe Lexa was actually, genuinely a good person. 

Either way, Clarke shrugged at Octavia and Lincoln's question, grabbing their plates from the afternoon snack. They'd been watching a movie, though Clarke couldn't remember half the plot of it. She'd seen it before and had decidedly zoned out, relaxing her brain for a bit. The apartment had been freshly cleaned. It still held that homely feeling both Octavia and Lincoln enjoyed. There were used bits of furniture here and there, paint scrapings, crooked floorboards, plants in every corner and crevice of every room - those were, of course, Octavia's since Lincoln could kill anything green with a single look. 

"How about we play a game, then?" Lincoln asked. "The night's still young." 

"The night's not even night yet," Octavia said. "It's a newborn." 

"Still in the womb," Lincoln shot back. 

"The morning and midday are in the middle of making the night." 

"Morning hasn't even-"

"Alright," Clarke interrupted. "I think that's too much for my sensitive ears and mind. I'm heading out." 

"Why are so you intent on not hanging out with us?" Octavia asked. Clarke could sense the hurt in the voice, but she didn't have the energy to argue. 

"With the conversation you two just had, I think it's reasonable for me to not want to be a part of that." 

Lincoln shook his head and smiled. "I think we'll be fine, O." He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her in tight. He had a look in his eyes Clarke knew would haunt her 'till the end of time. 

"Please, guys," she said, putting on her coat. "Can you at least wait until I've actually left the apartment? Or the room?" The couple laughed and waved her off, Octavia still holding somewhat of a hurt expression, even as Lincoln's hand seemed to slide down her back. "My GOD!" Clarke bellowed with a sigh, slamming the door shut behind her. 

***

She didn't get very far down the street before her phone rang. 

Clarke stopped walking. 

"Mom?" She asked, holding the phone to her ear. Through the phone there were the sounds of people walking, chatting, metal screeching, machines beeping. "You're at work."

"I'm on break," Abby replied and sounded like she was shuffling through papers. 

"Is everything alright?" Clarke asked, feeling her heart in her throat. It wasn't that she hadn't spoken with her mom since her dad's funeral, it was just that their conversations had lasted no more than three and half minutes and ended with her mom saying 'screw you' and Clarke giving her the finger. 

"Are you really asking me that." Abby replied, it not being a question for Clarke to answer. "I was wondering when you were coming home. You're still living with Octavia and Lincoln, right? Eating out their fridge, taking up their space, not going to work?" 

Clarke held the phone away from her face and sighed, rubbing her eyes with her other hand. "I don't want to go back home yet, mom."

"Well," Abby said. "I've sent the cleaners there to prepare, so I do hope you'll consider coming back within the next few days at least." 

"Mom, how are you not listening to me?" 

"I am, dear, I'm just using the infamous mom-method of selective hearing." 

Clarke felt like exploding, actually exploding. She continued to walk down the street, feeling restless. There was still a while until the poetry reading so she thought, with the sun being almost warm through the darkish clouds, why not relax in the park for a while. 

"I think you should come back, Clarke." Abby almost sounded genuine. 

"I think not, mom." 

"Why is it so hard for you to be in your own house? Is it the memories?" If Abby had been any other mother it might have been a nice, concerning question to ask your daughter, but Abby had the gift of making everything sound acusing. 

"Yes. It is, actually." 

"He didn't even live there. I'm home where he lived. Memories are all around me and yet I still happen to go to work." 

"That's because work is literally what defines you, mom. You have no other hobbies, no friends outside of work, no fucking life outside of that hospital." 

"Clarke Griffin, don't you dare swear at me." Abby was using a harsh but hushed voice and Clarke knew she didn't want to be heard by her coworkers at the hospital. "You come back to the house your father and I gave you, young lady, and for once be grateful for-"

Clarke interrupted her with a laugh. "'Young lady'?" She repeated and laughed again. "You just aged twenty years, mom." 

"Come. Home. Clarke. That's a damn order." 

"I'm an adult, mom. You are not in charge of me anymore. I know how much you hate losing control and authority, but live with it." Clarke hung up before Abby could reply. She shut stopped walking, shut her eyes and exhaled deeply. If Clarke had thought to be in something resembling a good mood today, a conversation with her mother was quick to kill that slight bit of joy. Now, more than ever, she wanted to sleep. Her phone buzzed and she knew the text was from Abby. Clarke decided to read it later. 

"Tough phonecall?" 

Clarke whipped her head around. Lexa stood, wearing tight, black jeans and a beige hoodie, holding two pizzas. She shook her head, whipping her ponytail to the side and getting some of her hair out of her face. 

"The toughest," Clarke answered. Lexa continued to walk and Clarke decided to follow. The two of them were quiet for a while, this time Clarke noticed the quiet. It didn't seem heavy, though. "I'm going to the poetry reading. Tonight. The one you talked about?" 

"Really?" Lexa asked, obviously surprised. 

"Is it that big of a shock?" 

"Well." Lexa shrugged and stopped walking. They were standing outside the library. "Heading somewhere or do you want to come inside? It's just me and Anya." 

"The girl with the loud music," Clarke remembered. 

"That's the one." Lexa opened the door with her elbow and Clarke felt guilty for not thinking of helping her. They walked inside, the place blasting screeching music through speakers. "Anya!" Lexa snapped, cringing. "I'm so sorry!" She yelled to Clarke, who only heard her by reading her lips. "Anya! Turn this stuff down!" 

The woman, Anya, swirled out from behind a bookshelf, her back towards Clarke and Lexa. She was dancing, screaming the lyrics of the song, wriggling hips from side to side and jumping up and down. She helt an invisible microphone and turned to the side, posing to the last beat of the song. Anya was grinning from ear to ear when she turned to the two girls. 

"A guest," she said, not looking embarrassed in the slightest. 

"Clarke," Clarke replied. 

"Anya," Anya said. "Has Lexa kidnapped you? She does that sometimes, you know."

"Anya, please. If you don't stop talking there's no pizza for you," Lexa snapped back. At this, Anya rolled her eyes and went for the pizza Lexa'd put on the desk. 

"Holy Mary of Jesus my God," Anya mumbled as she stuffed her mouth with pizza. The cheese melted off, sliding slightly down her chin as she ate. Again, no embarrassment from the girl. 

"You must excuse my monster of a friend," Lexa said, "apparently she only eats when I pay for the food." 

"Fwee food ith the beth food," Anya spat out as she ate more. Before Clarke could blink, Anya had devoured half her pizza, Lexa only just opening her box. 

"Want some?" Lexa asked, pushing the box towards Clarke. Normally, Clarke would decline out of kindness, but she was hungry. Octavia and Lincoln had stuffed their faces with popcorn and ice cream during the movie, but Clarke hadn't felt like any of the things. Now, however, she was starving. 

"Thank you," she said and took a slice. 

"Hey!" Anya suddenly exclaimed. "You're the girl who had a drink by the books! In the isles a week ago." 

Clarke cringed. "Yes, I'm sorry about that, by the way. Hopefully your boss didn't yell at you."

"She always yells," Anya replied. 

"Is she that awful?" 

"The worst." There was something mischievous in Anya's eyes and she her tomatosauce-covered mouth was grinning. Her eyes whipped to Lexa, who stood practically fuming. 

"What?" Clarke asked. "What did I miss? Oh, are you dating the boss?" Clarke figured it could be banter between two friends. One hated the boss, the other was dating her. From Anya's sudden eruption of laughs and near choking on pizza, however, Clarke figured that wasn't the case. 

"I- no, I'm not- actually-" Lexa tried, putting down her piece of pizza. "Uh, actually I am the boss."

"What?"

"I own the library. It's- I'm the awful boss," Lexa said.


	5. Serendipity

Once the pizzas were consumed and cleaned up after, the three girls began preparing the place for the reading. They set up chairs in a half circle around a taller chair. There was no need for a mic, since the room was so small and snug. Clarke wondered how Lexa had ended up in the librarian business, but as the evening continued she seemed to get it. It was peaceful, simple, in a way. Lexa seemed to know the rhythm of everything and there were no big surprises. 

It seemed just right for a girl like Lexa to be doing something like this. 

As Clarke put out bottles of water and Lexa finished brewing the last batch of coffee, the author arrived. It was a young man with bright yellow hair and tan skin, piercings lined his ears and he seemed to tick off every prejudice Clarke had. The man was unhappy with the chair arrangement and decided to change it up without asking, or telling, Lexa. He moved them into disheveled orders, pulling his own chair farther back from the others and brought a lamp to light him up from behind. 

"Interesting," Anya mumbled right behind Clarke, who'd paused to observe the entire thing.

"Artists," Lexa muttered, shaking her head. 

"Are all the authors like that?" Clarke asked, surprised to find herself hiding a half-smile. 

"No," Lexa answered the same moment Anya said, "yes." "They're not," Lexa continued. "Most are very kind. Some are just..." 

"That," Anya finished for her. The man was warming up his voice, screeching and bellowing awful sounds and butchering tongue twisters. "I- I can't," Anya said, stifling a laugh. The man whipped his head towards the three girls, face on the break of catching fire. Anya burst out laughing and quickly excused herself to the back of the room. 

Clarke continued with the water, then proceeded to help Lexa unpack paper cups. She'd read the text from her mother from earlier, and now felt herself fall into the rhythm of closing off all exterior noises. "You really don't need to do all this," Lexa said as people began filling the empty chairs, snapping Clarke out of the comfortable silence she'd made for herself. 

"It's nothing," Clarke replied. She kept her head down as Lexa said hello and smiled to everyone coming in. She pointed towards the seating area, though it didn't seem necessary in the small space. "I ruined a book and embarrassed myself by crying in the middle of the whole thing. It's the least I could do." 

Lexa paused for a brief moment, seemingly about to say something. 'She's gonna ask why I was crying' Clarke thought to herself, preparing for the question. But Lexa shrugged and continued to greet the guests. "I get it," Lexa said after a while. "The library has... something special. People come here all the time to just... be alone, you know. I guess that's why I opened this place. People need peace and quiet every once in a while. The library gives them that option." 

Clarke exhaled slowly and nodded. "That was exactly why I came here the first time," she said. 

"Why did you come the second time, then?"

"Bad weather," Clarke replied quickly, surprised to find her cheeks heating. 

"Oh, really?" Lexa said, grinning. 

"Yep," Clarke hurried to say. "I think your author is ready to begin." She pointed towards the stage where the author had been holding his book the entire time, sweating visibly. 

"Wish me luck," Lexa said and walked to the stage.

***

Lexa had started off introducing the author, who'd then proceeded to give numerous presentations before a handful of poems and short stories. They were all awfully graphic and Clarke felt herself cringe with horror and disgust. Some were rhythmic and seemed to be more of a song, and even the author got the audience to clap in a slow beat - he also had to start that one over two times since the audience weren't clapping just right enough for him. 

Anya had been forced to leave early since she couldn't hold back her laughter. Even Clarke found herself stifling a half-laugh every once in a while. Lexa, though, kept up a serious face through the whole thing, clapping and snapping when the others did. Clarke wondered if Lexa actually enjoyed the man's poems, which made Clarke listen a little more carefully. The man was now talking about the time he lost a friend of his in a car accident and how it changed his perspective on life and death. The man rhymed 'emotion' with 'Newton's law of motion' which Clarke found impressive. 

Once the reading was over, Clarke helped clean everything up. It didn't take very long and soon the two of them were standing outside, Lexa locking the doors behind them. 

"That was... interesting," Clarke said, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her coat. The night had turned cold and she wished she'd brought warmer clothes with her. It was later than she'd thought but she didn't feel as tired as usual. 

"Very interesting," Lexa replied, letting Clarke lead the way down the street. After a while of silence, Lexa asked, "I've been wondering what you're doing in town. This isn't the most touristy place of all." 

Clarke breathed a laugh and looked around. The only lights around them came from the windows of apartments here and there. "I'm staying with a few of my friends nearby." She could tell Lexa was curious for more, but Clarke didn't know if she could bare to tell her. 

"We can talk about something else," Lexa said easily. 

"It's... complicated. Thank you." 

"Trust me," Lexa said, following Clarke to the left, "I understand 'complicated'." 

"You mentioned you moved around a lot. How come?" Clarke made a right turn down the wrong road but decided to go with it. She didn't mind taking a little longer going home. 

"Anya used to be in a band," Lexa said and nodded when Clarke looked surprised. "I travelled with her and the others for a while until, well, things turned sour. Some members of the band didn't treat Anya very well. We left them on tour and moved around for while, neither of us being able to find a steady job. Eventually we settled for this town, I found the library and decided to give it a shot." 

"That sounds... tiring, to be honest." 

"The tour was hard work for her. We started to run out of money after a while anyway. Everything seemed to push us towards leaving, so that's what we did. I like it here, though. The city has a few too many people for my liking, but I mostly see my apartment, the road towards the library and the library." Lexa followed Clarke down a small street to the left. "I haven't even been to this part of town before and I've lived here for a year," she said with a laugh. 

"Can I be honest with you?" Clarke asked and stopped. "I have no idea where we are. I am utterly, utterly lost." She shook her head, feeling her cheeks redden.

Lexa, to Clarke's surprise, burst out laughing. Her laughter was deep and warm and filled the quiet night. Once Lexa had tears in her eyes, Clarke couldn't help herself. She laughed, too. It seemed to bubble from the pit of her stomach and her body felt like cramping. She hadn't done this in weeks, maybe more than a month. It warmed her through and through and she wanted it to never end. Lexa pulled out her phone and opened Maps. Clarke typed in Octavia and Lincoln's address and the two girls followed the blue line. 

They walked back the way they'd come from and Clarke started to recognize her surroundings. Eventually Lexa turned off the map and put her phone back in her back pocket. They continued to ask different questions about each other. Clarke learned Lexa had lived with Anya most her life and they were close like sisters. Clarke told Lexa briefly about her over-working, doctor-mom but pushed the conversation in a different direction once she feared her dad might come up. Lexa explained what it had been like being on tour and Clarke laughed easily at the ridiculous stories Lexa had to share. 

Eventually, and much to Clarke's annoyance, they stood outside the apartment complex. 

"I guess this is it," Clarke said, looking up. There was a faint light in the living room window upstairs and Clarke figured Lincoln must have left it on for her. 

"I'm glad you came tonight," Lexa said. "It was nice seeing you again." 

"This time not crying," Clarke added, smiling. 

"That, too," Lexa said. "I won't keep you here any longer. It's already very late." 

"Much past my bedtime, actually," Clarke joked. It felt so strange to have this light conversation, to talk to someone who didn't know the gory details of Clarke's past month. She felt like a normal person again. In that moment, Clarke decided to not tell Lexa about her dad. She wanted this... friendship, she guessed, to work, to not be about her dad's death. 

"I hope to see you around the library again soon, Clarke," Lexa said, turning to leave. 

"Actually," Clarke said, feeling a weight on her chest. "I'm leaving town soon." Her argument with her mom had ended in a text, explaining how Abby missed Clarke, missed a sense of family. Clarke knew it was a guilt trip to make Clarke feel bad and come home, but it worked. And maybe, just maybe, Abby actually meant it. Maybe Abby, for the first time in many years, missed being a family. 

"Oh," Lexa exclaimed. 

"I should have told you," Clarke tried, but it felt strange. "I'm visiting my mom for a while and then heading home."

"That sounds nice," Lexa said, but Clarke could tell she was surprised, maybe even slightly disappointed. 

"I mean," Clarke said, "I'll still come back here. Most of my friends live in the area, anyway. But, maybe, we could exchange numbers or something to keep in contact?" 

"Of course," Lexa said and exhaled. They switched phones, typing each their number in. Clarke typed in her name as 'Tourist walking aimlessly around the park'. It made Lexa smile a little more and Clarke enjoyed the feeling it gave her. 

"I'll stop by the library before I leave. I promise." 

"Thank you," Lexa said, turning around and leaving. 

Clarke was surprised to find herself still smiling as she went up to the apartment.


	6. Lacuna

Lexa decided not to tell Anya about the late-night walk and talk with Clarke. She knew how Anya could be with this sort of thing. The moment Lexa started showing any sort of interest in a girl, Anya became overly interested in knowing each and every gory detail of what Lexa did. So when Anya asked 'what was up with that Clarke-girl', Lexa answered that Clarke was a turist and simply enjoyed the library. 

Which, of course, made Anya wiggle her eyebrows and smirk for the remainder of the day. 

"If I were to take tomorrow off," Anya asked as the two girls sat by the desk-dining table, "would it be the end of the world?" 

Lexa thought about the hundred million things that needed to be done in the library. Workers were coming soon to fix a crack in one of the facade's windows. It would mean the entire area of the library needed to be cleared off. It would take a lot of time. 'And a lot of money' Lexa thought. "It's fine," she answered. A few days ago, Lexa had borrowed Anya's laptop. It opened to a Facebook invite to a concert the next town over. She knew Anya really enjoyed the band's music and, even though this would mean Anya would be gone for a day and a half, Lexa wanted her to go. 

This would also mean Lexa would have to sleep alone in the apartment. 

"And if I took the day after tomorrow off as well?" Anya was visibly cringing behind her bowl of dry cereal, which made Lexa wonder if maybe, just maybe, she'd been too harsh on Anya about work. 

"It's alright." 

"And if I won't be sleeping here-"

"Anya," Lexa said, putting down her dry toast. "It's okay. Just... send me a text every now and again?" 

"Of course." Anya was beaming now, already texting someone on her phone. "It's for a concert," she explained, then proceeded to tell Lexa the entire story of the band, how they'd split up twenty years ago and just now got together again after the lead guitarist had died of a heart attack. They'd looked through the man's stuff and found old songs he'd written, then decided to finish them and perform one last tour in his honor. 

Anya's eyes lit up as she explained, quoting lyrics here and there. Lexa wondered if Anya missed touring - of course, the band she'd been with had been awful, but the music had been the reason she'd stayed for so long. If it hadn't been for the guys in her band constantly nagging her, never saying one nice word, always telling her exactly what to do and then yelling at her if anything ever went wrong, maybe she'd still be working on her music. 

Lexa knew working at the library didn't make her friend happy, but she didn't know how to fix it. 

***

'So when are you leaving?' Lexa had texted Clarke this morning and still hadn't received an answer. Clarke was weird like that. Either she was answering a split second after Lexa had hit send, practically answering Lexa's texts before she'd finished writing them, or hours would pass before Clarke showed signs of having read it. 

"You're on your phone a lot," Anya said, stacking books from the window onto the cart and cramming them onto shelves here and there. 

"It's an addicting invention," Lexa replied. She was taking down and neatly folding the many posters. It let a lot more light fall into the space. She'd need to find a different way to hang up the posters, since the library seemed bigger with the natural light hitting the shelves. 

"I think it's a certain blonde who's an addicting invention," Anya gushed. 

Lexa decided not to answer, focusing on finishing this before Anya had to leave. Something had changed with the bus Anya was taking with some of her friends and she'd have to leave tonight and not be home for another two days, meaning it was two full nights of Lexa sleeping in the apartment without anyone nearby. It was stressing her out. Anya had asked a million times if it was alright with Lexa, and she'd said it was fine. 

Lexa was twenty-five. It was about time she learned how to sleep on her own. 

Still, her hands were sweating and her stomach hurt at the thought. The apartment was small, which should comfort her since she would be able to see every part of it all the time. Yet, she hadn't eaten much more than the toast this morning and she still felt like vomiting just thinking about tonight. 

Lexa had never enjoyed sleeping on her own, had never gotten used to it. She'd lived with Anya most her life, meaning since she was four. She couldn't remember a time before that, had decided not to remember a time before that. Life before Anya didn't matter and it did no good to remember it. So Lexa had always had Anya close whenever she had to sleep. Lexa often had bad dreams and maybe that was why she needed someone close, someone to wake her up from it. 

Maybe she just needed to know someone would be there to make it stop. 

"You're zoning out," Anya said, grabbing another stack of books. It was the last one, which made Lexa calm down a bit. They were almost done. "Are you one hundred percent sure you'll be okay alone in the apartment?" 

"I will be one hundred percent okay, Anya. The only reason you're still asking me is because you're not working while you're asking," Lexa observed. 

***

It was late when Clarke finally answered. 

'Tomorrow morning' was all it said. 

Anya had left the library to grab her things and go, leaving Lexa to finish the last few things. "Make sure to actually go back to the apartment and sleep," Anya had advised. 

"I'll see about that," Lexa had said, jokingly, but Anya looked concerned. "Just go. You'll miss the buss." And then Anya had left, leaving Lexa to fend for herself for two days. And Clarke was leaving, too. Which was a weird thing for Lexa to worry about, since she wouldn't have called the girl if anything were to happen, but the thought did make her a little more uneasy. 

As the sun settled outside the library's windows, Lexa took a moment to pause and look. The sky was quickly turning dark, hues of orange tinting the clouds that drifted quickly by far above. If it wasn't for all the light pollution from the city, Lexa might've been able to see the stars. She could remember climbing on top of the garage when she was a kid, sitting on the roof with Anya by her side, and counting all the different stars they could see.

They couldn't remember the actual names of each of them, but they made up stories of them all.

On the brightest of all the stars, the one that rose every night, lived humans like themselves. The humans had been forced to leave Earth and now lived together, waiting until they could come home. Anya had read about cities being so populated there were laws about couples only being allowed to have one child, and so Lexa and Anya decided that the star was, though very bright, was small. No one could have sisters or brothers and everyone was forced to live under strict rules.

Looking back, Lexa knew where the stories came from. They came from being a child in a family with alcohol parents, mistreated, untrusted, left alone for most of the day until something was wrong and someone needed to take the blame. Lexa came into Anya's family when she was four. Life before hadn't been nice but life after wasn't much better. The only difference was that Lexa had Anya's shoulder to cry on when the yelling became too loud.

Lexa's phone buzzed, snapping her out of the memories.

'Is it you in the library?' The text read.

Lexa looked through the windows and down the street. And, surely enough, a certain blonde girl with a burnt orange hoodie and leggings was strolling towards the front door. The bell ringed as Clarke entered and seemed to take in the warmth of the room. Fresh air spilled through the open door until Clarke closed it again. "You're working awfully late," Clarke said.

"Many things to do," Lexa answered. Her voice shook and she cleared her throat.

"Where's the musician? I was looking forward to her dancing."

Lexa huffed a laugh. "She's out of town, unfortunately."

"So you're a man down?" Clarke asked, putting her phone and keys on the counter. "Woman down, I guess."

Lexa laughed a little, feeling grateful for the sudden change in tone. She hates how her mind works sometimes. A thought becomes and memory, a memory a flashback, a flashback another traumatic event she didn't need. Clarke brought in a fresh breath of something Lexa needed.

"You're offering to help?" Lexa asked. Clarke nodded, almost smiling. 'I'll get a smile someday' Lexa thought. "Well, because I'm too tired and too bored to protest, I suppose you can start by grabbing the boxes in the back and bringing them out here. They're filled with donated books. You can look through them and make sure they're in an all right condition, no missing pages, no gross stains and, for the love of god, no arcs."

"Arcs?"

"Pre-copies of books made for people to read before the release of the actual, final edition of the book. They're illegal to sell since the author doesn't make any money off them. They're entirely for press. It says 'arc' somewhere on the front or the spine of the book."

Clarke turned on her heel and walked to the back of the library, shoes squeaking on the wooden floor. Lexa checked her watch and saw it was nearly midnight. She couldn't help but to wonder if Clarke had decidedly walked to the library or if it was all just a coincidence. Lexa shook her head and continued to send out emails for the people who hadn't returned their borrowed books. It wasn't a very long list, but she needed to double check the titles of the books, the prices and the costumers' names.

Also, technology wasn't Lexa's forte.

***

"Alright," Clarke grunted as she brought out the last box. Ten boxes, each filled to the brim with books. "Now I just look through them all?"

"Yes," Lexa said. She'd made tea for them both and handed Clarke her mug.

"Thank you," Clarke muttered as she drank. Lexa noticed Clarke's eyes go vacant for a moment, noticed her shoulders droop slightly before she put down her cup and started to check the books.

As the night continued to drag on, Lexa finished all the piled up emails, letters and notices from the workers she'd dreaded for weeks. Clarke was halfway through the boxes and only found a handfull of non usable books. She'd taken off her hoodie, not sitting in a loose t-shirt tied around her hips. It was at least five sizes too big for her and hand down over one shoulder. Clarke's eyes met Lexa's, who quickly turned back towards her computer, typing random things onto a blank screen. Out of the corner of her eye, Lexa could see Clarke turn back to her books.

'Idiot' Lexa thought. Her cheeks were burning.

"I'm going to my mom's house," Clarke said suddenly. Lexa kept quiet. She could tell Clarke was thinking about something, choosing her words. "I- I haven't seen her for a while, a month almost."

"Why not?" Lexa asked after a bit. Clarke's eyes stayed on the books. She paused, reading the title of one and putting in a pile Lexa guessed was for fantasy books.

"She's not... She's..." Clarke shook her head. "Remember when I told she's a workaholic?" Lexa nodded. "Well, she's more than that. She invented the damn term. She has no life outside of the hospital, has no actual friends. Time and time again she's chosen work over me and-" Clarke stopped abruptly. "She's the type of person who doesn't understand why others don't think and feel and act the same way as she does."

"But you wan't to see her again?" Lexa asked carefully.

"I don't know if I want to, but... she wants me back home with her. I guess- god, I don't know, Lexa, I guess I just want her to want me there, you know?" Clarke sighed deeply and rubbed her eyes. They were turning slightly red and Lexa was scared Clarke was getting upset again. "How's your mom? Can you give me any advice on how to deal with one?"

Lexa huffed a laugh and shrugged. "I'm afraid I don't have much to give on that front."

Clarke let her hands fall to her lap. "What do you mean?" Quickly, she held out a hand. "Sorry! Don't- don't answer that if you don't want to-"

"No, no, it's fine, Clarke," Lexa hurried to say, shaking her head. "I don't mind. It's just been a while since I thought about her. My mom - my actual mom - gave me up for adoption when I was around four. She wasn't really... mentally stable, I suppose. She did the right thing, of course. She just didn't know I would get a new mom who was even worse than her."

"We won the lottery," Clarke whispered quietly. "What was the new mom like?"

"She yelled. A lot. And drank a lot. She wasn't around most of the time and when she was, she just... yelled. So much anger in such a tiny person," Lexa told Clarke and shook her head again. "I was a kid and didn't understand any of it. I had Anya, of course. New Mom was Anya's Actual Mom."

"You're half sisters?"

"Yeah. We moved out the moment we could and then Anya got the band and, well, the rest you already know. Now New Mom and New Dad are drinking in a big house on their own. Lucky us," Lexa said. She couldn't keep out the bitterness in her voice. Perhaps the bitterness belonged their for whenever she spoke of her, supposed, family.

"I'm an only child," Clarke said. Lexa saw Clarke's eyes fade again, saw them turn red, saw her cheeks turn pink.

"We don't have to talk about it," Lexa said quietly, barely a whisper.

Clarke nodded, snapping out of whatever she was thinking of. "There are too many books here anyway. You'll need twice as many shelves just to fit all these."

"I know," Lexa sighed.

Clarke got up from the floor and stretched. Lexa could tell the girl was started to feel tired, that she distracted herself by moving. It wouldn't be long until Clarke would decide to head home, to leave Lexa with the rest, to, unknowingly, leave Lexa to face the fact that she had to sleep alone in her apartment for the first time ever. 

"What's next, then?" Clarke asked instead, hands on her hips.


End file.
